


let me be the one to do what is done

by OAbsalom



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Comfort, Shibari, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAbsalom/pseuds/OAbsalom
Summary: Aziraphale believed this was something Crowley needed. Crowley was kind - had always been kind - and only needed a safe space to express that part of himself. Crowley was measured and almost breathless in his approach, eyes traveling up and down the length of the rope with each wrap, each pull-through of the end, following it around Aziraphale’s legs, then up, up into the air in his hand. This was the demon at his most magnanimous.(Tender shibari sex; Written forThe Bond Zine)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56
Collections: The Bond Zine





	let me be the one to do what is done

The sun streamed in to release rich reds from the mahogany walls into the air of the room. There weren't any words. There was a kind of reverent silence to the act. Aziraphale breathed slowly, feeling his ever-present guard welling to speak up inside him and pressing it back down. 

Aziraphale believed this was something Crowley needed. Crowley was kind - had always been kind - and only needed a safe space to express that part of himself. Certainly he could grow to accept it. To love it. This was something the angel could give him. He knew he could place himself in Crowley’s hands and know the demon was free from the danger of his own altruism.

His gaze wandered about the room, and he let his mind be wiped of anything but the feeling of the silken ropes being wrapped around his chest. Crowley was measured and almost breathless in his approach, eyes traveling up and down the length of the rope with each wrap, each pull-through of the end, following it around Aziraphale’s legs, then up, up into the air in his hand. This was the demon at his most magnanimous.

Crowley believed this was something Aziraphale needed. Aziraphale had too much tension - was always alert and wary - and only needed somewhere nurturing to abandon all that caution. Of course he’d be relieved to let it go. To embrace security. This was something the demon could give him. Crowley knew he could admit his gentle decency if it meant Aziraphale allowed himself to trust.

Occasionally, Aziraphale’s body would jostle back with a firm tug of his bindings. Crowley carefully pulled the angel’s knees up to his chest to fix them in place and sat back to survey his work. 

The angel was a vision. The haze in the air contrasted with the cream of his skin and soft blue of the ropes, transforming him into a cool and tranquil beacon in the fire of the room. The demon grasped the ropes to the back and front of the tightly bound parcel and hauled him to the edge of the bed. 

Crowley’s deft hand parted the angel’s cheeks, clasped so tightly from his restricted thighs, and he ran his fingertips around his puckered hole. He parted his lips as he pressed a slicked finger into him, and the most muted of sighs slipped from the back of Aziraphale’s throat. Unhurriedly, he opened him. Aziraphale felt his limbs press out against the cords; not in protest, but rather a staggering desire to feel the extent of his containment. The extent of his unmitigated trust in his former enemy.

Crowley watched the rise and fall of the angel’s chest as he worked him, bindings cutting into his flesh as he breathed. He’d been tied so very still. Not a fidget or fuss found. When the demon slipped his fingers from his partner, they were both still entranced in their own worlds, their own deep sensational experiences. He broke the spell softly.

“I’m going to have you now,” Crowley announced low and tender, taking himself in hand to meet Aziraphale’s entrance. The angel looked back at him, cheeks aflame as hellfire, and blinked slow and pointed. Deliberately, delicately, Crowley slid his cock inside of him; pressed their bodies so close not even the breath of God could have come between them. Their trances were broken, and suddenly they were no longer individual experiences in the void. Their two perceptions crashed together - moons caught unyielding by one another’s gravities - to meld into a single passionate point of consciousness. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat. He haltingly dropped his head to Aziraphale’s side and exhaled a shudder into the body below him. The angel’s eyes rolled back in his head as he relaxed his muscles around Crowley’s erection only to have them involuntarily clench once more. 

At that, the demon released a strangled cry, and his brow furrowed against his lover’s skin. He started to move, in and out and in again, penetrating him loving and thorough. It was the most intimate thing Crowley had ever felt - having someone so utterly at his mercy yet allowing himself to give soft and placid affection. It was the most intimate thing Aziraphale had ever felt, surrendering serene to the soft stretch as the demon’s length rolled in and out of him, the motion generous and sweet.

It was intense and not enough and exactly right, and neither of them could imagine the time when it would have to stop. The din of silence in the room was broken only by quiet sighs. 

Crowley held him loosely as he made love to him, the glow from the walls relenting purple to the gloaming, and they were both exposed and defenseless, mending and growing in their own ways. 

**Author's Note:**

> _Let me be the one  
>  To do what is done  
> Let me be the one_
> 
> _Let me tell you the things you want_  
>  _In the order in which you want them_  
>  \- The notebooks of Robert Frost
> 
> [Tiny disclaimer because I can't help myself: Written off-headcanon.]


End file.
